


Zayn's Christmas Carol

by ColThKnighthold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Futurefic, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Multi, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColThKnighthold/pseuds/ColThKnighthold
Summary: A story in which Zayn is reunited with his former band mates for Christmas. And they finally become friends (again).Or Louis asks him to come to his birthday. It takes three ghosts (four actually) to get him there.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A great big thank you to all the readers of my of previous stories.  
> Again I don't know any of these people I never met them or know anything about their sexuality. It's just for fun.
> 
> About this new one. I really wish they were all friends again.
> 
> Merry Christmas

New York, Sunday 24 December 2022.

The city is covered in a thick layer of snow. Zayn who is walking home, after having worked all morning on some art project, hates the cold. He curses under his breath as he notices it starts snowing again. He really wishes he was home already. Suddenly he stops surprised when he sees a familiar figure standing at the other side of the street. But that can’t be, Rauf has been dead for a long time. In fact Zayn hasn’t thought of his cousin for quite some time. But he swears it is him, standing in the lamplight. He is wearing the same jacket he had on that last day he saw him, has the same haircut too. And he is looking straight at Zayn. But how can that be when he died of a heart attack, on this very day, seven years ago! Growing up Rauf was the older brother Zayn never had and they really were thick as thieves. Rauf was the only one he really confided in. He was always so patient with the younger Zayn. Zayn has to look away and when he looks back the figure is gone. He must have imagined it, after all. He walks away so lost in thought, he bumps into someone. When he looks up he staring in the face of a smiling man. Zayn mutters sorry and starts to leave. But the man asks him to make a donation for the charity he is collecting for. Zayn tells him no before he hurries on. Rauf would not have approved, Zayn knows, he would have donated, hell, he would have stopped to talk to the man and buy him some coffee. It’s because of Rauf's friendliness, Zayn even started a charity in his dead cousins’ name. His parents choose his name Rauf well as it means compassionate Zayn thinks. But Zayn isn’t feeling very charitable or compassionate today.

Half an hour later and Zayn is back in his SoHo penthouse high above the New York streets. It is strangely empty without his girlfriend. He is standing in front of his window staring at the now fast falling snow. He wonders for a moment whether or not the flight he’s booked to Amsterdam tomorrow morning will be cancelled because of the snow. He wants to surprise his girlfriend who’d gone to the Netherlands to spend the holidays with her Dutch relatives. He doesn’t like Christmas himself. He isn’t a muslin anymore, he denounced it publicly in an interview. But he is also not a Christian, not really, anyway. He hates the commercialization of the holiday. He really shouldn’t have stayed in New York then. For here it’s absolutely everywhere. The lights on the streets, in the shop windows, on the television. It’s even worse than in Bradford. So in a moment of melancholy he had bought the ticket to see her. 

His thoughts however are not with his girlfriend at the moment, but with a letter Zayn received a few weeks ago which stirred up a lot of old forgotten memories. It’s an invitation for Louis’ birthday bash. And although he is in a much better place than when he left the band, he still isn’t ready to see his former band mates. He burnt those bridges a long time ago. His fiancée and her mother think he really should make an effort and contact them, but …. That is why he hasn’t told them anything about the card. But the handwritten message of Louis on the otherwise very formal looking invitation to his 30th birthday bash on Christmas Eve in expensive nightclub in Los Angeles is haunting him. 

Please come. I miss you. I hope you're alright. And even if you don't want to come. I will understand. I just hate this silence. So this is me asking to get in touch one way or another.  
XX  
Louis 

He has already looked at flights to Los Angeles, there is one from JFK at 17:40 pm he still can make that if he tried. He will then be at LAX at nine pm, after a flight of about six and half hours. But then he thinks of how the band ended and he really doesn’t want to go. He still feels wronged, he still is after all these years, focused primarily on the negatives. Even though his girlfriend and especially her mum told him time and time again, that doesn’t do him any good, to dwell so much on the bad things that happened. And he really is getting better at it. He knows there were good times too, there must have been. Only he doesn’t seem to be able to access those happy memories. He only knows the no control over his own life, not his style of music, too much alcohol, the drugs, always on the go, his homesickness, the lack of down time, the times zones and the lack of sleep, the fall out after he left and the angry twitter war with Louis about Naughty Boy, who turned out to be the biggest loser of all. He only wanted him for his fame after all. Louis had been right, but Zayn will never ever give him the satisfaction of telling him that. 

But, they, the other boys, should have seen how poorly he was and should have done something about it or at least tried. Even though he knows logically that might have been too much to ask for. They all had problems in the end and were trying to deal with those for themselves. And even if they tried to reach out, he probably wouldn't not have seen that at the time for what it really was.

It’s half past three in the afternoon and he is already on his third bottle of Stella and even though he and Gigi have a rule of not smoking in the house, he smoked quite a few cigarettes too. He sits there in the living room on the sofa and stares at the Christmas tree, while their hairless Sphynx cat Dobby lies in his lap. Suddenly the cat gets up and starts to hiss at something Zayn can’t see. Then there is a rush of cold wind. And his long dead cousin stands in the room. Ghosts don't exist. He must be hallucinating, going mad. Or maybe he is ill.

‘Rauf, is it really you?’ Zayn asks tentatively, for he is not entirely sure he wants an answer.  
‘Of course it’s me. Do I look different perhaps? Now I have been dead for seven years. Come to think of it maybe I do. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,’ the pale and slightly see-through figure of his former cousin says. It makes Zayn nervous. And why is it so could in the room? He is sure he turned the heating on when he got home. ‘What are you doing here? I don’t think you came for a simple friendly chat.’  
‘To be honest no! I have been following you.’ Zayn does not like that idea and idly remembers the incident earlier on the street. ‘Was that you by the lamppost? It was, wasn’t it? But why?’  
‘Yeah, that was me, because I care about you. You really have to change your ways, Zayn.’  
‘Again why?’  
‘Because nobody needs to end up bitter and alone.’  
‘But I am not alone or bitter. I have a girlfriend you know. I have family.’  
‘Yeah, I know you do. But you had also four band mates.’  
‘They were never my friends though, still aren’t. I haven’t seen them in years. Seven I think.’  
‘So why are you still holding on to that letter then? And why did you look up those flights?’  
‘No reason. And for your information I am not going anyway. That band was the worst experience in my life.’  
‘But Zayn, friends and shared experiences matter, so does talking about your feelings,’ he tells him.  
‘How many times do I have to say it? They never were and never will be, my friends.’  
‘You keep telling yourself that, Zayn, but ... Anyway, you will be visited by three ghosts to help you. Please take their advice. Expect the first one at four o’clock, the second at five and the last one at six.’


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here Zayn's journey begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised here is chapter two. I hope you will enjoy it.

After Rauf is gone and the temperature in his apartment is back to normal, Zayn decides he doesn’t believe in Rauf’s appearance nor his words. He simply doesn’t believe in the paranormal. Dead is dead. But then again he and Rauf had been really close and if he says it is important and he even comes from the other side to tell him that. Maybe, just maybe, he should listen to him. 

But his train of thought is rudely interrupted by the alarm on his phone going off, and then the kitchen timer and for good measure his laptop and all the bells on the Christmas tree start to ringing as well. At one point it gets so loud he covers his ears with his hands. Then as suddenly as the noise started it stops again too. And when he looks at his phone, it’s four o’clock. Strange for he could have sworn it had been later a minute ago. For a moment nothing else happens the silence ringing loud in his ears, he is still staring down at his phone. Until …. 

He feels he is being watched and looks up. There is a figure at the other side of his couch by the tree and she looks very familiar. Her long blond hair hanging straight, it’s longer than he remembers, she is dressed in a very skimpy platinum coloured dress. Naked arms and naked legs. It’s Perrie, his ex- fiancée and he hates her all over again.  
‘Why are you here?’ he asks her non-to-friendly.  
‘Believe me I don’t want to be here, either. But I am not your ex, I just happen to look like her and I am here to tell you, you are being ridiculous,’ she states with her arms crossed.  
‘You really sound like her though, that is something she would have said.’  
‘Then maybe she was right and you should have listened to her. You had fun! Why did you and her split? In 2015 was it? If you don’t mind me asking?’  
‘She was just too demanding and then she dissed me.’  
‘You weren't very nice either. As I recall you split up via a text message. That is not very gentlemanlike.’  
‘You got me I am a coward.’  
‘Yes, you are, but anyway that is not why I came. I came to show you Christmas past, your past. Let’s have a look shall we?’ 

She shows him a plethora of images of times him Louis and the other boys had fun. At concerts, at photo shoots, during interviews at radio stations and television shows and red carpet events. In the bus going to god knows where, during the making of videos, at signings at venues, bookstores and so on. At meet and greets with fans for or sometimes after shows, during the fittings of ridiculous expensive clothes that where borrowed of the designers, at awards shows sneaking out for a smoke. Being in awe of meeting childhood heroes he pretended not to have, the recording of songs when the producers were really happy with what he had done. And during preforming making fun of the others about the banners fans had made about them, the hugs and sometimes kisses the others gave them high on the adrenaline of just see-ing and hearing so many people crying for them. There are so many, he is dizzy with it. How he could he have forgotten about all those?  
‘Nice isn’t it, to see all that. I quite it like myself,’ He hears not-Perrie saying. ‘Don’t deny it Zaynie boy, you were happy there. You can’t fake emotions all the time. Yes, I know you know about the bad times. Now look at the good ones.’

Zayn can’t help it, he looks at his left hand at the place where his now removed “bus 1” tattoo, he shared with Louis, once sat. He remembers getting it done and it reminds him of the mischief, he and the older boy got up to sneaking of, smoking weed on the bus, getting drunk on very expensive champagne at awards shows. The Mystery Machine van of the Scooby Doo cartoons he and Louis bought. And the nice relaxing times they had in it. He doesn’t know what happened to it after he left. Laughing and joking around at rehearsals. None of them were good at dancing, Harry of course trying to look sexy, but failing by a mile and falling over his own freakishly long limbs, tripping over nothing but still laughing. Liam and his puppy dog ways, his sometimes hilarious lack of knowing geographical and other things and laughing at himself for it.  
‘My, my, I didn’t think you had it in you. But here you are, glowing with happiness and dare I say it, pride?’  
‘Oh, fuck off!’ Zayn exclaims but there is no heat behind the words. They, the band, did accomplice something and they did have fun doing it. But that still isn’t enough. The others were supposed to be his friends. They should have seen he was suffering.  
‘Oh, there is our own moody Zayn again. I know it was too good to last. Oh well. I tried. Oh before I go there is one more thing I have to show you.’

The next moment they are in a hotel room and he sees Louis standing in front of very ill looking younger version of himself.  
‘Is something wrong? Please talk to me! You’re not well. You are not eating. You really look like shit, you know. We all see it.’  
‘Just leave me alone! You know nothing about me and really do not pretend to care. Because you don’t, you just care about yourself.’  
‘Please Zayn, just talk about it. It will help.’  
‘Save your words for someone who cares.’ He pushes Louis out of the door. And now for the first time he sees the other boy’s frustrated tears. ‘He really doesn’t want to listen Liam.’ He hears Louis say to the other band member. ‘Lou, you tried.’  
‘I failed, I really am scared he is going to do something, he is going to regret.’  
‘Surely it won’t come to that. Maybe we should send him home for a little while.’  
‘I’m scared that he won’t come back if we do.’

The rest present-day-Zayn knows for that was the day he left the tour and Louis was right he didn’t come back.  
‘Maybe I shouldn’t not have been so cruel to him,’ Zayn mumbles. ‘It seemed like he really meant well.’  
‘What was that?’ not- Perrie asks him tauntingly.  
‘Nothing,’ he mumbles embarrassed, she heard his words. 

The next moment they are in a green room of a concert venue. Liam, Harry, Louis and Niall are standing together in the middle of the room. They are sweating like they just have come the stage. But they don’t look happy. It’s not at all like Zayn remembers them being like after a concert. They were hyper then, not subdued like this.  
‘We all miss Zayn, we really don’t sound the same without him,’ Harry says to the other guys. ‘Let’s face it. It’s just not working out like this.’  
‘I really don’t want to have to tour without him,’ Louis answers looking down at the floor, the other three all nod in agreement.  
‘We’re just say we are going to take a break to work on solo stuff,’ Liam suggests. ‘It’s not as if we are lying or anything. I think that’s the only thing we can do.’  
‘And we have to have a lads holiday, we did not have a proper break to sit down with all of us and just talk,’ Louis tells the group after a brief moment of silence.  
‘We all know Zayn won’t be coming with us, so that holiday is not going to happen either,’ Niall states.  
‘Because we all know Louis won’t go unless Zayn is coming too,’ Liam remarks sounding very bitter about it.

The next moment he finds himself back on the couch in his own high-rise and empty apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow chapter three.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zayns journey with the ghosts continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but here is chapter three

Before he can start to process anything, the bell of the front-door of his apartment starts to ring and ring and ring. Telling him there is a very impatient somebody at the door. But there was no phone call from the security downstairs, which is very strange. How did they get in? Is it a neighbour then? He really doesn’t want to see anybody. But he still goes to have a look. It might be important. When he opens the door, he sees his older sister standing there. He knows that is impossible. She is in England with her husband and children.  
‘Who are you then, if you are not my sister?’  
‘I am the ghost of Christmas present, and I know you are hurting. But it’s no excuse to behave like a boar with a sore head. And make everybody worry about you.’  
‘You not only look like my sister, but you act like her too.’  
‘Really, now then I think you should take her advice and get your head out of your arsehole and go to Louis’ party and talk to your former band mates.’  
‘How do you know all this? Besides you’re being rude and very nosy. Just go, leave me alone. I don’t want to know about them, alright. I am sure they are all doing fine without me.’  
‘Oh, you are really full of it, aren’t you? But also know I won’t leave you alone. Anyway we have places to see and people to meet. Just take my hand and we will be on our way.’

The next moment they are standing in a familiar sitting room. He is back in Bradford, England at the house he bought for his parents. They are sitting on the sofa. It’s late in the evening they are having a quiet talk before bed time.  
‘I really worry about him you know. He is so depended on his girlfriend. She is so organized. I really wish he would talk to the boys, they were so close. Why doesn’t he reach out to them?,’ his mother asks her husband.  
‘Babe, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. You know how Zayn is, he needs to process things in his own time. He will see sense eventually,’ his father replies.  
‘I just fear that that might be too late.’  
‘I know honey, but .... Anyway I am off to bed. Come and join me,’ his father says standing up.  
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ his mother is also getting up and switches of the lights before she follows him to their bedroom.

Then the ghost grabs his hand again and the next moment he finds himself in another sitting room, an unfamiliar one this time. There is a family sitting on the large off-white L-shaped couch in front of the fireplace and when he takes a closer look he sees Gigi, her mother, Gigi’s brother and sister as well as some people he doesn’t know. So they must be in the Netherlands then. He sees on the clock on the mantelpiece that it’s after midnight here. On the brown glass coffee table in front of the couch are a few empty, a half-full bottle of wine and an expensive looking cheese platter as well as a half-eaten Christmas cake. The whole room is smelling like pine and not of the artificial kind. You really can’t miss the big Christmas tree with beautiful pastel-coloured antique ornaments and an angel on top. The lights in it give it a soft glow. He knows he should stop staring at it. But there is so much to see. The figurines like horses, ballerina’s, skates, birds some of glass most carved out of wood. The baubles too are beautiful, some simple silver ones, some very intricate with lots of different soft colours. There are even what he thinks are eatable Christmas wreaths in it some made of meringue and some of cook-ies with sugar on it. He never had a real one growing up and he really didn’t fancy to have one delivered to his high-rise apartment. Even though Gigi had her heart set on a real one. He thinks he understands why, now.  
‘You really should not have left him there on his own,’ Zayn hears Gigi’s mother say to her daughter.  
‘He didn’t want to come. You know I can’t make him. He’s busy with his art, the exhibition and all,’ Gigi answers sounding rather defensive before taking a sip of her wine.  
‘Well, he’s a stubborn one. That’s for sure,’ her mother remarks. ‘Does anybody else want a another piece of this delicious cake? You really outdone yourself, mum. I want the recipe for it before we go.’

Next thing he knows he is in another unfamiliar room. This one is much smaller and darker done up in tartan but still has a fireplace. There are even stockings hanging from the mantel-piece above it, it looks like they are filled too, with what he can’t see. And of course there is a real well-decorated Christmas tree here too, it reminds him of pictures on a site advertising how wonderful it is to spend your Christmas in rural England or Ireland, he thinks when he recognises the writing on the cards. Gaelic, he knows for Niall tried to teach him some words. So that’s where he is then, at Niall’s place in Mullingar Ireland, it’s nearing midnight here he sees on the great grandfathers clock standing in a corner of the room. 

Then the man in question walks in dressed in a sweater with a drunken reindeer with a pint of Guinness in his right front hoof on it. It’s so Niall, he can’t help but chuckle. When Niall looks round the room like he heard something Zayn ducks away.  
‘You know he can't hear or see you. He probably heard something outside,’ the ghost tells him. Which was true as a minute later a woman comes into the room. She is very pretty. She must be a model, like Gigi. 

‘There was again some mention of Zayn in the papers,’ she tells Niall after she gives him a hello kiss, ‘something about an upcoming art exhibition in New York.’  
Zayn’s smiles he is very proud of the exhibition.  
‘I really hope he is happy with his life,’ answers Niall.  
His fiancée is not so forgiving though. ‘He is an idiot, I hope he is miserable after all he put you guys through. Having to re-record some of your album and preforming with just four of you. He could have given you some warning,’ she says with a sigh. It sounds like they had that same conversation many times before.

Then the ghost and Zayn are off again, this time they are back in New York. He can hear the familiar sounds of the big Apple. They are in a bedroom and Harry is standing in front of his wardrobe in just a t-shirt and some shorts, looking at the clothes in side of it. ‘Love, what do you think, the green or the black one?,’ he drawls in his slow and syrupy voice. Harry looks good. His hair still shorter than when he saw him last. He never grew it back out after that first film. Dunkirk. And no he will never admit to it, but he saw it more than once. Nor, that he has both of Harry's solo albums or the book Harry wrote.  
Harry is holding up two tops, for the other man in the room to see. It's a for Zayn unfamiliar man which he realizes must be Harry’s boyfriend. He didn’t even know he had a new one. The man must be some kind of sportsman, Zayn thinks, for he really looks athletic. Harry has done well. It’s clear Harry and him are packing to go somewhere, judging by the two open bags on the bed. ‘Why don’t you go for something a little bit more festive? We are going to a party you know?’  
‘Yeah, maybe, I really don’t want to upstage the birthday boy, though?’  
‘Why not that purple glittery one, you know the one with all the ruffles. He will be wearing in a tracksuit anyway.’  
They must be going to Louis’ party then, Zayn realizes. He wonders how late it is here? It should be half past five already he thinks, but he can’t see any clock to check this.  
‘What time is it? They are cutting it a bit fine!’  
‘Don’t worry about that, they have plenty of time left. He wants to argue this but then he hears Harry’s voice again. ‘I wish I had seen how much pain he was in,’ the boy getting the ruffled shirt of his hanger to put it into his bag. ‘Maybe I could have done something to make it easier for him.’  
‘For who? For Zayn?’ his boyfriend asks, ‘but you had a lot on your plate yourself, babe, please, don’t let his anger and bitterness get to you. Don’t blame yourself for his troubles. He didn’t want to talk and he left. Not you. Remember that.’  
‘Yes, of course I know that. Mum, Gemma, you, even Jeff, my manager, tell me this all the time. But I still can’t help thinking that if I paid more attention. Then maybe he wouldn’t have left. Silly I know but that’s how I feel.’  
‘Maybe you should see a psychologist for a while again. It helped you so much by your ac-cepting your being pansexual after all what went on in the band. I mean you being portrayed as a womanizer, dumping one girlfriend after another.’

‘Huh, maybe, if you think it will help. We did talk, Zayn and I, maybe not very meaningful conversations, but we did talk. We both loved fashion. We both loved photo shoots. He always looked so handsome. He was nervous and so on. But we all were. But the fans got us through. Seeing them, seeing their nice comments on social media. Of course there were weird ones sometimes. And don’t get me started on Larry. Louis really hated that name so much that for a while there I thought I lost his friendship forever. But there were Zarry ones too. Or at least a lot of fans thought we looked good together. Bit weird to read what they think should happen in the bedroom between us and how explicit those stories are. But ...’  
‘Haz, you really are a weirdo,’ the other guy looking fond interrupts Harry’s rant.  
‘What? Why?’ asks Harry turning round to put some other piece of clothing into his bag.  
‘It’s just that you really should stop thinking so much about other people. Just leave them be and concentrate on your own wellbeing.’  
‘But some of the fans write really nice and well-written stories. It’s good fun to read about Louis being a hedgehog, or a rabbit, or a cat, or a penguin. You know he has a tattoo of a penguin on his arse, right?’  
‘Haz, really? Oh, wait do they write stories about us?’  
‘Probably. I can check if you want.’  
‘No that’s fine. I don’t want to know!,’ says the man zipping up his bag and backing out of the room. 

Seeing Harry like this again makes Zayn think about the song “My good years” he released three years ago. Louis thought it was about him (or about the band in general), and in a way it was. He just wanted them to admit they all had drug problems. He had a hard time getting clean afterwards. But he honestly thought they, his ex-band mates, had stopped caring about him long before he actually left. But to see they still think of him and miss him seven years later. It’s a bit much.

‘What are you thinking about? You like them, don’t you? Well, they are nice, Niall and Harry!’ The ghost remarks.  
‘What? Harry? No, he is an arsehole!’ Zayn exclaims.  
‘Whatever you say,’ the ghost says sounding bored.  
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ demands Zayn.  
‘You like thm and you can deny it all you want, but it’s still the truth,’ she answers dragging him away. ‘Two more stops. We have to hurry I really don’t have much time anymore.’

And they are standing yet again in an unfamiliar room, this one decorated with an artificial tree like in his own apartment. But it’s not cold here, like in New York. When he looks out-side he realizes they must be in LA as he sees the iconic Hollywood letters. He also knows it must be earlier here.

A woman with long brown hair and wearing a sexy red dress totally Liams type then, walks in the room she is putting her earrings in. Zayn think she looks familiar. She is an actress or singer or something. Zayn may or may not have read in magazines about her and Liam’s whirlwind romance. That is something he doesn’t do.

‘Honey we really should get a move on. If we want to pick up Louis’ present before the shop closes,’ she says walking to the door.  
‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ a slightly flustered looking Liam now also has entered the room. ‘I really should not have left it so late but ...’  
‘I know, love, but you were busy recording and as usual you forgot the time. It’s only a little over three now. We will make it there before five don't worry.’ 

‘Why are you showing me this? They look very happy together.’  
‘Oh Zayn, just be patient.’

‘I just let the dogs out in the garden, then we are on our way.’ Liam says to her.

‘Jahwar, Kabeer, come on guys.’ Liam calls out. And two beautiful Afghan hounds come running towards them a white one and a slightly bigger beige one. ‘You know I named them in honour of Zayn,’ Liam tells his girlfriend.  
‘Yeah, I know, you told me before, but it’s just weird. Zayn has denounced his faith I heard, why do you not call them just Jewel and Great or something.’  
‘Because their names are Jahwar and Kabeer, and it’s not because of his faith. It’s because of Zayn’s heritage. They are Indian names, it’s close enough as Zayn is part Pakistani,’ he says walking away, the hounds following him. ‘Everybody, Louis most frequently tell me I’m cra-zy but I just miss him,’ Liam confides in the two dogs while he guides them towards the back of the house. ‘I just always thought we would stay in touch. We did for a little bit. But then he changed his number again for whatever reason. And ...oh, I just wish he gets back in touch,’ Liam says while opening the sliding doors to the garden.  
‘Liam please make sure that they have enough water and food,’ his girlfriend shouts after him.  
‘Will do!’ Liam hollers back before he starts puttering about in the garden.  
After a little while he comes back in the house. ‘We will be back tonight or early in the morning.’ Liam says to the two hounds who are staring a little bewildered at the now closing door. ‘Please behave.’  
Liam gave his dogs Indian names. Zayn is in shock. It makes him think about this friendship with Liam. But he thought he had lost it. Maybe he didn’t? Maybe he should just get back in touch?

‘And the last one as promised,’ the ghost tells Zayn when they leave the scene. ‘It’s also quite close.’

It has to be Louis’ house as it is the only one of his former band mates he hasn’t seen, Zayn thinks, as they are now standing in the garden by an infinity pool. There are a lot of people about. Then he sees Louis standing alone and his wearing tracksuit bottoms and simple t-shirt. He is staring down in the water of the pool, a large blue cocktail in his hand. It reminds Zayn of a cocktail he and Louis once drank in the Hard Rock café in Sydney, or was it Melbourne. A “shark repellent” it was called. And very lethal with all sorts of booze in it. Blue Curacao was definitely in it hence the blue colour of the thing. He could really use a stiff drink himself right about now. A woman comes walking up beside Louis and puts her arm around his waist. She is heavily pregnant Zayn sees. He recognizes her, it’s Eleanor Louis’ wife (a model, fash-ion blogger turned designer). They finally tied the knot last year. Their beautiful ceremony had been all over the papers. She is now wearing a very and flattering elegant light blue dress. It’s from her own new clothing range especially designed for pregnant women. “Calder Pregnancy Wear”, it’s called. He might have seen pictures of the launch of it a couple of months back. Not that he is keeping up with Louis’ affairs or anything. He is just in interested in fashion. 

‘Why are you looking so sad on your birthday, love?’ he hears her say to Louis.  
‘I really miss the lad,’ Louis says. ‘I invited him to the party again you know.’  
‘Who? Zayn? You wasted an invitation then. He’s not going to come. You asked him every year and he is yet to show up. Really. Oh, Lou can’t you not take the hint. He wants to be left alone.’

‘He invited me every year?’ Zayn asks the ghost. ‘Yes, you really should check your emails more often.’  
‘Oh.’ Maybe he should as he has absolutely no memory of receiving anything of the sort from Louis apart from this latest one he received in the mail. Surely he must have seen something. But then again he had wanted a clean break. And he had been in so much pain that he never considered that they were suffering too. 

It’s so strange to have to realise that they still miss him especially at special occasions it seems. He almost feels guilty, he never did. He wanted to be normal, he hated the attention that came with the fame. Everything about your life in the papers. Most of the time it wasn’t even true. But not enough to step out of the music business altogether, even after the debacle with that fame hungry producer. He still makes albums even though he never preforms them live. But the others had to deal with that part of it too. They were and maybe still are in a way in it together. He is so lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t realize he is alone again. In the middle of an unfamiliar street. He is pretty sure it’s in New York somewhere. He shivers with cold. He really should have brought an overcoat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters four and five will be up Chistmas Eve at the latest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayns journey continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised the ghost of Christmas past.

Zayn fears he is going to be mugged or killed when he sees a dark hooded figure approaching him. The man, or at least Zayn thinks it’s a man, doesn’t give any identifying features away in the long black robe he is wearing. He hopes that it’s the ghost of Christmas Future otherwise this is going to end very badly. Suddenly the figure stops and just stands there in front of him.  
‘Who are you? Are you the ghost of the Christmas yet to come?’ He asks feeling slightly anxious.  
No answer.  
‘Can you not speak?’  
Still the figure stands there, mute.  
‘Well then let’s get on with it. Show me what you need to show me.’

The next moment he is back at home but now there is no beautiful furniture or artificial Christmas tree, and Dobby, their cat, also appears to be missing. Actually there is no trace at all that his girlfriend or the cat have ever been here.  
‘What happened?’ Zayn asks the ghost standing next to him.  
No answer.  
‘Did she leave?’  
Still no answer.

Zayn stands there unsure of what to do next, when he sees an note lying on the couch and he picks it up - You rely too much on me to be organised and your distinct lack of commitment it is too much. I’m leaving you. X Gigi- it reads.  
‘But we have a cat together. Surely that must count for something?’ he calls to the empty room. ‘But I love her even though I still haven’t proposed to her. But that is because of my ex, Perrie, and our disastrous engagement. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.’

He looks around the room for further clues about how his future-self is doing.

There is a magazine lying open on the coffee table and Zayn goes over to have a closer look. 

Good years over.  
(by one of our reporters)

Zayn Malik’s latest album has been a total flop, he is still not preforming the songs anywhere and his once so loyal fans are fed up with waiting until he comes out of hiding. Apparently his anxiety is now so bad he doesn't even leave the house anymore. His girlfriend left him (sees picture of her leaving the house with a bag and her cat Dobby). An insider has told us he doesn't want to see anyone anymore. He doesn't pick up the phone or answers his phone. They fear he might be dead.

His former band mates are standing together in the green room of MSG in New York, but it’s different scene than he saw earlier with the ghost of Christmas past. They are clearly older here, Louis hair is streaked with grey.

‘I can’t believe he did that. How dare he!’ Liam shouts angrily.   
‘Maybe we should go to his funeral? Free food and drink and all that,’ Niall suggests.   
‘No he left us! And why now? He must know we are in the middle of a tour? He is an arse-hole, and he clearly doesn’t want us there.’ Louis responds defiantly.  
‘But what if no one goes?’ whispers a close to tears sounding Harry.  
‘That is not our problem Harry.’ Louis puts an arm around his band mate. ‘He didn’t want our friendship anyway.’ 

‘Who are they talking about?’ Zayn ask the black hooded figure next to him.  
He still gets no answer.

Instead the ghost gives Zayn a push and they are off again. And a few seconds later they are yet again in another room. It’s also empty. This one has no Christmas decorations. There are chairs, but it’s not a sitting room. Then Zayn notices the casket so they must be in a funeral parlour. ‘Why are there no people here paying their respects?’ he asks but is no longer sur-prised he doesn’t get any answer.

Two women who obviously work there judging by the clothes they wear, come into the room. ‘It’s so sad when there is no one to mourn you.’  
‘Yeah, such a lonely and desperate way to go too.’  
‘I know, he took his own life, didn't he?’  
‘Guess he really didn’t want to be here among the living. Depression is such an awful thing to have to go through, especially when you do not seek any help for it. There is no shame in going to a therapist, you know. I had one myself for a while. It was really helpful.’

‘What did this man do to deserve that?’ Zayn asks the ghost only to be met with silence again.

The next moment they are at a graveyard. It’s a sinister and dark place and like in all good sad movies it is raining. Zayn shivers. ‘I really don’t like it here. It’s cold and I’m getting wet. Can we go now?’  
The ghost, however, pushes him forward. ‘I guess not then,’ Zayn mutters under his breath.

When he reads who the headstone belongs to, he nearly has a heart-attack. For there in the black marble is carved his own name. He was the man who died, he was the man nobody missed. 

‘No, no, no, that can’t be! There must have been some mistake! That man can’t be me. I never was that lonely. No, that can’t be me.’  
‘But it’s you though. Can you not read, boy? Not very smart then are you?’ A nasty voice next to him says.  
‘What? I am plenty smart.’  
‘But not smart enough,’ the voice taunts.

Zayn turns round to see who the voice belongs to and to tell him exactly what he thinks of him. But his words die in his throat … for it’s the man in the hooded robe. Only now he has removed the hood and.... it’s not a man, not a living one anyway. It’s the Grim reaper! He has seen pictures of this skeleton with a scythe. He didn’t like them then and seeing him for real is far, far worse.  
‘You were giving me lip, boy! I heard you! Do you not know how serious this is? It’s your immortal soul we are talking about here. Pushing people away is not good for it. People are not meant to be alone. You have seen the boys, men I should say. Louis is thirty now. They miss you. You miss them. Go and see them. Otherwise...’

Zayn is standing in a desolate and lonely place. There isn’t anything here, but rocks. Dark clouds are overhead. He never saw such a dismal place. He is looking around trying to decide which way to go, when a cold wind decides it for him and pushes him to his left. For a while he can see nothing but swirling around sand. Then the wind dies down. And he is standing in front of the ruins of a house. It looks like a bomb hit it. There can’t be any one here, Zayn is sure. But he is wrong when he walks through the rubble. He comes to what he thinks might have been a bedroom. There is a shattered bed frame in it. He wants to leave again, when he sees something in the corner of his eye. A figure huddled together is sitting in the corner. He wants to go to it and get it somewhere safe. But before he gets to it the Grim reaper is back.  
‘What is this place? Zayn asks.   
‘The Afterlife!’ The grim reaper answers.  
‘Shouldn’t that be a happy place?’  
‘It can be. But not in this case as you see! And before you want to try. You cannot safe that figure over there, its mind is gone. Or rather we are now in side its mind. And you see there is nothing there anymore. It’s what will happen to your mind, if you don’t stimulate it. And you stimulate your mind every day by interacting with people. If you close it away and focus on the negatives, it will eventually implode and then you are so desperate you will commit sui-cide and you come here. Not a pretty idea, is it? Being in here for eternity.’   
‘No I will change really I will. I will go to the party and I will talk to them and we will be friends again. I promise.’ Zayn begs the Grim reaper clutching his robes. ‘Anything, anything but this.’ 

Then everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy last chapter to come tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the journey.

When Zayn comes to and looks around, he is to his own astonishment, not lying in a grave-yard outside somewhere, but on the floor of his own New York apartment. And according to his phone which is lying next to him, it's still Christmas Eve and it’s 16.05 pm to be exact. What the hell? On further inspection of the room he sees by the door a packed bag with a piece of paper on it. It is a first class ticket and a note from Rauf ‘I put your nicest outfit in there, have fun.’ He can still go to Louis’ birthday bash then. Was it all a dream? It doesn’t really matter he thinks as he rushes to the airport.

In his posh hotel room in LA just off the Strip, Zayn sees his outfit. Rauf has chosen well. It’s his dusty rose suit with an embroidered white rose on the blazer's lapel. He had worn it to the Grammys in 2018. He looks at himself, his caramel coloured skin and his tattoos. Does he look different somehow? He will make an appointment to see a therapist. Maybe he does have is-sues he hasn’t dealt with properly. Maybe dealing or trying to deal with those issues on his own is not the way forward. He keeps seeing that figure in the rubble in that desolate place in the afterlife, forever. If his mind .... He doesn’t want to think about it. He will talk to all of them and he will propose to Gigi and they will have a real tree together next year. And he will cherish this day from this day forward.

It’s a little after ten when he gets to the venue. And the party is already in full swing. Decked out in Christmas colours and way to many fake trees for his liking. He recognizes friends and family of Louis, his two younger sisters Fizzy and Lottie are rather hard to miss. He feels sick with nerves when he sees Harry. Part of him wants to run back to the airport, but he stands rooted on the spot when Harry turns around and walks up to him. He is wearing the purple glittery ruffled shirt he combined with some black trousers. ‘Hi, I didn’t think you would make it. Hell, I didn’t even think you would even consider it.’ Harry drawls.  
‘Well, what can I say, I had some really persistent help to persuade me to come.’  
‘I’m glad you came.’  
‘You are?’  
‘Of course Zayn, we have a lot to talk about, but first let’s find the birthday boy and have some fun.’

Harry takes his hand and leads him through the sea of people. Just how many people did Louis invite to this party?  
‘Did you eat? When did you get here? Still living in New York? Me too! Harry rambles, clearly nervous. While Zayn’s nerves are quieting down, but only slightly. ‘Yeah, I know. Had something on the plane which landed a few hours ago.’  
‘Cutting it a bit fine then, weren't you?’ says Harry smiling.  
‘Like you’re the one to talk. You got in earlier today too,’ Zayn remarks smiling back.  
‘How do you know that? We were trying to keep it a secret.’  
‘That’s a really funny story. I just might tell you about it, one day. But don’t worry your secret is safe with me.’  
Before Zayn can say anything else Harry’s boyfriend shows up with a drink for him. ‘Hi honey, got you a drink. And who is this handsome fella?’  
‘Zayn here is an old friend I had thought I lost. But I’m very glad he decided to finally show his face again.’ Harry says to his boyfriend. And to Zayn he says looking proud: ‘This is Alex, he's a figure skating champion, he went to the Olympics and all.’  
Harry shows him an YouTube film on his phone of Alex presumably at the Olympics. 

‘Zayn is that you?’ another familiar voice says in his ear. He turns round to see Liams big brown puppy dog eyes staring at him. ‘Hi mate, long time no see!’ Zayn says feeling nervous again. He really wants a drink too or a pack of cigarettes.  
‘And whose fault is that?’ Liam asks.  
‘Sorry, I will do better in the future.’  
‘Zayn, I will get you a drink,’ Harry interrupts hurrying off somewhere.  
‘Oh that’s all right, you haven’t met my girlfriend yet have you?’ Liam asks him.  
Zayn doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say he saw them both earlier today nor can he tell Liam anything about his dogs. So he just shakes his head. ‘No, no, I haven’t.’  
Liam introduces his girlfriend her name is Rosamund and she is an TV chef, and has her own show on the Cooking Channel. Oops, Zayn thinks he really should have known that. But in his defence he doesn’t watch any cooking shows. But she looks nice and most of all she looks at Liam like he hung the stars in the sky. It’s the same way Gigi sometimes looks at him. He should really buy her a ring. He will go to Tiffany’s as soon as he gets back to New York.   
Zayn tells Liam he has chosen well and hopes they will be together for a long time. 

Harry comes back with a drink and a merry Louis who has changed into a nice pair of trousers and a button-down shirt. He looks really good. His piercing blue eyes are staring at him as if he can't believe Zayn is actually with him. Eleanor is even more stunned when she notices Zayn. She even pinches his arm to check if he is for real. He gives her a big smile but strokes his arm a few times as it did hurt. ‘Well, you better not hurt Louis like that again. I will kill if you. I have my eye on you. And you forget that!’ After all the trouble they Louis and Eleanor went through they really have come together now. Zayn is happy for them both.  
‘El, I wouldn’t dream of it. And you are not the only one keeping an eye out, believe me.’

Zayn tells Louis while sipping the cocktail Harry gave him (way too sweet for his liking, he rather had a beer, but …) that he is sad though Niall could not make it.  
‘We will catch up again soon,’ Louis replies. ‘It's no big deal. But I don't think he will believe you're here unless we give him some proof of this momentous occasion. Selfie time.’  
And grabs Zayn close to get him in the shot. Before sending it. Zayn has no idea what time it is in Mullingar Ireland but he isn't surprised Niall replies straightaway with an WhatsApp to Louis who shows it to him. ‘Finally. Told you he will see sense eventually 😊.

‘Zayn, we will have to talk and you aren’t allowed to disappear again,’ Louis tells him starting to slur his words. Somebody should tell him to stop drinking. But now that Liam has finally taken pity on Zayn and gave him a beer he knows he isn’t the one to do it. That would be hypocritical so instead he says: ‘We should have proper lads holiday. Like the time we spend in the cottage after the X-factor.’   
‘That's a brilliant idea lad. Best birthday ever!’

When he finds time while smoking a cigarette outside he looks up to heaven and thanks Rauf for his intervention from beyond the grave and promises him he will get married next year with all his friends and family in attendance.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought of it. Leave kudos if you like it.  
> 


End file.
